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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569174">Lovelorn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/multiplelizards/pseuds/multiplelizards'>multiplelizards</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Essi and Priscilla are only mentioned in passing, Fluff, M/M, we are playing fast and loose with both of those AUs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:41:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,051</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569174</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/multiplelizards/pseuds/multiplelizards</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a daemon. Some say these embodiments of a person's soul will help lead you to your other half, but the daemon of a witcher? They're just tools.</p><p>After all, witchers can't love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>525</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lovelorn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was initially going to be a whole AU but I got a little bored with it. That being said, there's still enough here for a cute little fic, so here's the setup and some fluff.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt may not remember much about his time before Kaer Morhen, but he does remember what his mother used to tell him about his daemon. <i>She's part of you and she'll guide you to your soulmate. Listen to her, love.</i> He'd believed her until she'd left him alongside the road to be picked up by Vesemir.</p><p>Witchers taught that daemons were tools to be used--a witcher's daemon would, upon their successful completion of the trials, settle into a formidable predator animal who would prove an invaluable tool in their hunts. Tools, not some supernatural guide to love, as his mother had promised.</p><p>Ria, his daemon, had never given him a helpful answer. "I don't know," she'd said, curled into his lap as a tiny fox, the same lovely color as his boyish curls. "But <i>I</i> love you, Geralt. And I will always protect you." He was still a few years out from the trials and her form hadn't settled yet. Privately, he hoped she'd stay small enough to cuddle like this, although his teachers promised him she wouldn't. Vesemir's Jackal was the smallest daemon he'd seen here. Most witchers had big, terrifying daemons--bears, lions, wolves. He'd cuddled Ria closer, fingers brushing carefully along her velvet-soft ears, hoping she didn't choose a wolf. He was sick of wolves.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>To say that the trial of the grasses was painful was a gross understatement. But despite the bone-crushing pain, the worst part was being separated from their daemons. It was for the safety of all involved, to prevent any daemons from becoming defensive while their companion was in pain, but that didn't make it any easier to bear.</p><p>They didn't let him see Ria until after they'd forced him through both the normal trials and the additional ones that had left his hair shock white. She'd barreled straight into him and he'd been <i>painfully</i> relieved to find her small enough to scoop up in his arms. A Pallas cat. His teachers were deeply disappointed.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>Ria had never failed him in a hunt nearly a hundred years later, despite his teacher's collective disappointment with her final form, and people were still as terrified of her as they were of other witchers' daemons (at least in part because of how grouchy she always looked). He no longer believed she'd guide him to his soulmate--was convinced he didn't have one, that all of that bullshit was solely for heartsick lovers and children--but she was the only thing on this godsforsaken continent aside from his brothers that actually cared about him and she'd never given him bad advice. His mother was at least right about that.</p><p>"Where to, Geralt?" They'd just finished clearing out a nest of drowners for the alderman of a local town.</p><p>"Coin, then likely out of here." He hums in response. Ria telegraphs her jump a moment before she actually does so that he's prepared to catch her. Her favorite place to be is settled between Roach's neck and the horn of his saddle. It's a balancing act, but one she is infinitely good at.</p><p>"Yes. Locals here don't like us much, dear." He hums in response. It's not anything he doesn't already know. She bumps her flat little forehead against his chest piece, rumbling contentedly. He places her on her favorite perch before swinging up into Roach's saddle and pointing her back towards the town. Ria uses the time to clean her paws, still covered in drowner blood. The act makes his lips twitch, as it always does. It might have been nice to have a soulmate at one point, but he doesn't need anything but her, anymore.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>Jaskier grows up knowing that daemons were special protectors and companions and that he will never share a bond with anyone more strongly than he does his daemon. It's comforting, especially when his parents, and even the maids, sometimes, have no time for him. Marra is always there and she tries <i>so hard</i> to be everything he needs.</p><p>He also grows up knowing that other people's daemons are their own business. <i>Julian, you do not speak to them, look at them, ask about them, and you absolutely do not</i> touch <i>them</i> his mother had said during one of the few times he remembers her taking her own personal time to get him ready for a dinner party his father was throwing. He was five and intensely interested in other people's daemons the way children sometimes are.</p><p>He didn't find out until much later in life (about the time he'd left for Oxenfurt) that most people weren't quite that personal about daemons. You didn't touch, of course, but it was fine to look. And if they started a conversation? Well, talking was fine then, too.</p><p>It was during his time in Oxenfurt that he heard the bit about soulmates. <i>Daemons always know when you meet your soulmate. They see each other and they just click.</i> It made for incredibly romantic ballads, even if it was just an old wives' tale.</p><p>"Marra, would you know if we saw our soulmate?"</p><p>"How would I know?" she asks from where she's settled across his room over by the fireplace. Her form has been less tumultuous than it was when he was a child, but she still hasn't settled yet. Right now she's a hulking white wolf. It's a favorite form of hers lately, although Jaskier doubts she'll settle into something so imposing. Final forms are supposed to reflect the less obvious qualities of a daemon's human, true, and Jaskier's always had a temper, but a wolf? Probably not.</p><p>"Well, you'd know more than I would, love."</p><p>She hums at him, eyes not opening as she basks in front of the fire. "Would I?"</p><p>"You are <i>insufferable</i>. What's put you in such a mood?" He huffs, flopping down into a nearby chair. "You would at least tell me if someone felt--different--right?" </p><p>She chuffs in amusement. "Jaskier, I tell you everything."</p><p>"Yes, well," he trails off, feeling uniquely embarrassed in a way he hasn't around her since he was a child, "I'm just checking."</p><p>She rises from her comfortable position to pad across the room and drop her snout into his lap, wordlessly reassuring him as pretty amber eyes gaze up into his. Interestingly, Marra's eyes never change, no matter her form. He runs his fingers through her fur, a soothing activity, something he's done since he was a child. She will <i>always</i> have his back, even if no one else does.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>He is a little mystified when Marra's form finally settles about a month before graduation.</p><p>"A <i>Maned Wolf</i>?" Priscilla gasps when she sees her for the first time. It's a form she's never taken before, but Jaskier can <i>feel</i> this is it. And Marra confirmed it for him this morning.</p><p>"She looks <i>terrifying</i>," Essi agrees, grinning. Both his friends have very fitting daemons--Priscilla's Domi has already settled into a cute little brown stoat about a year ago and Essi's Snap had settled into a subtly beautiful little ground dove just two weeks before. </p><p>They <i>all</i> look fitting to play the part of the bard's companion...except Marra, lord help him. Essi's right--she's terrifying at a casual glance and deeply unnerving on closer examination. Something about her proportions are vaguely otherworldly--spindly and lean. Jaskier finds himself thinking of the ferocity of starving wolves every time he considers her. He <i>loves her</i> but lord she's going to make earning coin as a traveling bard very, very challenging.</p><p>"Hey, you don't know that," Essi says when he brings it up, "maybe she'll terrify people into donating their hard-earned coin."</p><p>"Essi, I don't want to terrify people!"</p><p>"<i>You</i> couldn't terrify a fly, Jask," Priscilla snorts while Jaskier makes offended noises. Priscilla and Essi spend the rest of the night teasing Jaskier while their daemons watch on with detached interest.</p><p>Marra doesn't actually bring it up herself until later.</p><p>"Are you really displeased with my form, Jaskier?" She asks almost out of the blue. They've just stumbled home and Jaskier's still more than a little drunk, but he can tell this is a conversation they need to have sooner rather than later.</p><p>"Marra, darling, I love you no matter what you look like," he tells her, crossing the room to take that long, beautiful face into his hands.</p><p>"I don't look the part."</p><p>"They were teasing, love. Of course you don't; we are more than music and poetry," he grins, leaning over to press a kiss to her snout. He almost over-corrects and ends up on his face, but she catches him with her bulk at the last second and he laughs. Marra is everything sharp and angry he doesn't let himself feel and he loves her <i>so much</i> it nearly hurts.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>As it turns out, Marra is actually the <i>best</i> travel companion, when they do set out. She hunts for them and she makes bandits and brigands think twice before attempting to fuck with him. He's a noble's son and he's had sword training, of course, can defend himself passably well, but it's a <i>joy</i> to not have to worry about it, to have Marra so effectively curb violent acts before they even happen.</p><p>Taverns are a little bit of another story.</p><p>It takes some convincing, sometimes, to get the innkeep to agree to let Marra into their establishment, convinced she's some kind of foul spirit instead of a daemon. <i>No daemon looks like that, boy.</i> But of course, Marra does and she <i>is</i>, so there.</p><p>She's not actually that much of a deterrent to his music, though. She tends to curl around his belongings and settle in until he's finished playing and by the time someone realizes she's there, he's already got their coin. It's <i>brilliant</i>.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>Geralt only stops in Posada for a quick meal--he's between contracts and headed towards Lyria at the time--so he doesn't scout the inn the way he might normally because he doesn't plan to stay. He hitches Roach outside and stalks in, Ria hot on his heels. He orders a meal--cold stew, but it's fine--and takes a seat at a shadowed table in the corner. </p><p>He leans his swords against the wall as he settles in, Ria hopping up onto the bench beside him to curl up while she surveys the room. There's a scattering of locals eating and harassing a bard who's playing something truly godsawful. It's not the voice but the song's contents they seem to be objecting to--the man actually sounds quite good, if you can listen past the lyrics. Most poor folk (and Geralt) can't be bothered to, though.</p><p>"Geralt," Ria hisses urgently, stealing his attention. He shifts to glance down at her as the barmaid brings over his stew.</p><p>"What?" he asks, following her gaze. She's zeroed in on a daemon across the room, curled around a travel pack and a lute case--the bard's then.</p><p>"That's--she's--" Ria makes a frustrated sound, "She's different. Her human is too."</p><p>"Ria, what does that mean?"</p><p>"I don't know," she grouses, sounding annoyed with herself. She's usually the cheerier of the two of them, even under the gruff, angry little face, "but I want to talk to her." Ria has <i>never</i> in all their years shown an interest in someone else's daemon. She tolerates his brothers' and is deferential to Vesemir's, but she does not <i>talk</i> to any of them. Geralt suspects she's still mad about the trials, in all honesty.</p><p>It's at about that point that the bard finally stops playing--apparently the latest round of stale bread is finally enough for him to get the hint. He crouches to collect it, muttering about "perfectly good food," and the daemon wrapped around his bags raises their head to watch, eyes scanning the room.</p><p>Geralt watches alongside Ria when the other daemon's eyes catch on them and stop. They rise, head cocked in curiosity, and Geralt realizes what they are. The daemon, a beautiful maned wolf, stares back with eyes the color of liquid gold before they turn to the bard, clearing the space in a few long strides. </p><p>As the creature begins to move, it's like the rest of the tavern suddenly realizes they're there--gazes catch and hold, people shift nervously and eye the bard. The daemon is <i>strong</i>, obviously so, but they're demure--they shy away from the gazes, tuck themselves into the bard's side. </p><p>Geralt can sense a moment before the bard looks up in his direction and he's careful to be sure his eyes are on the meal before him. He can't do anything about Ria practically vibrating with tension beside him, but that's fine--daemons can stare at people all they like, it rarely means anything. Except this is different, Geralt can feel it.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>Jaskier's been on a bit of a downswing lately. He's been struggling to write anything of interest since shortly after he'd set off on his own from Oxenfurt and his performances have suffered accordingly. With a huff, he crouches to collect the stale bread and vegetables that still look salvageable--it's likely all he'll have to eat tonight. He'll have to clear out of his room today as well; he'll be out of coin when he pays his debts to the innkeeper here. Despite his hardship, he doesn't quite blame these patrons for pelting him with foodstuffs; the song was terrible, he knows.</p><p>As he gathers what's edible to tuck into his trouser pockets, Marra stirs from her place guarding his bags before gliding over to press to his side, insistent. "Jaskier," she murmurs, voice hushed, "look."</p><p>He raises his head to follow her gaze and catches sight of a man across the room. He's heart stoppingly gorgeous--long, light-colored hair, built like a soldier, and wearing ruggedly flattering armor. Beside him is his daemon who's staring back with an intensity Jaskier's never had directed at him from another's daemon.</p><p>"Marra, what--"</p><p>"They're different," she says before he can finish forming his question and well, that's all he needs to know, really.</p><p>He straightens, makes his way across the room with Marra trailing closely behind him. People duck out of his way when they see her and it makes him smile, just a little. When he gets to the man's table he stops and waits to be acknowledged. The man keeps his eyes firmly on the food in front of him and keeps eating. His daemon, on the other hand, can't seem to look away from either of them.</p><p>"Love the way you just sit in the corner and brood," he finally says. The man starts as if to respond, still not looking at him, but his daemon cuts him off.</p><p>"He's always like this," she--they're obviously a she--says. Her expression is pinched and vaguely grouchy-looking, but her tone is kind. Jaskier is honestly a little startled. "Sit with us, please."</p><p>He smiles, settling into the seat across from the man, who still hasn't moved. He's frowning hard down into his bowl of stew. "Thank you, darling," Jaskier grins, "I'm Jaskier, and this is Marra," he introduces with no prompting.</p><p>"Ria," the daemon answers immediately, not bothering to introduce her counterpart. Jaskier has <i>never</i> met a daemon like this one. He might be just a tiny bit in love.</p><p>"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ria, my dear," he says, before turning his attention to the man before him. He means to ask his name, but the man is peeking up at him from under his lashes, obviously trying not to be caught staring and Jaskier notes two things all at once: one, his eyes are the same stunning shade of gold as Marra's and the pupil is slit, like a cat's, and two, he's got two very intimidating swords leaning against the wall behind him. Everything clicks all at once.</p><p>"Oh," he breathes, trying to tamp down on his delight, "you're a <i>witcher</i>."</p><p>His gaze darts away, straight back to the meal before him. "Mm."</p><p>"And not just any witcher," Jaskier recognizes him from the stories he's heard, "Geralt of Rivia."</p><p>The man sighs, finally meeting Jaskier's gaze full-on. "What do you want, bard?"</p><p>Jaskier doesn't know what he wants, only knows he cannot let this man out of his sight. <i>Soulmates,</i> his inner romantic cries. He shoves the thought away.</p><p>"I'm sure you've got lots of interesting stories," he hedges, and before he can finish his sentence, the witcher is up and storming away, swords thrown over his shoulder.</p><p>"Geralt!" His daemon hasn't moved. She eyes his back for a moment, obviously making some kind of judgment call before she turns briefly back to Jaskier and Marra, "Sorry," she says, soft and apologetic. Her gaze lingers on Marra for a moment, obviously regretful, and then she leaps from the bench in a smooth, beautiful movement and follows her other half out the door.</p><p>Jaskier watches the closed door. "Marra, do you think--?" He doesn't have to explain.</p><p>"They're different," she repeats again, and that's all the reassurance he needs to follow the witcher and his daemon out into the midday sun.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>And he keeps following Geralt, even after the elves in Dol Blathanna. He means what he says about changing people's minds about witchers, but it's not the only reason. No, the longer he's close to Geralt, the more sure he is that this is <i>it</i> for him. They're soulmates.</p><p>He doesn't mention it, of course. He gets the impression Geralt might spontaneously disappear on him if he did. Still, it doesn't stop Marra and Ria from becoming close companions themselves. </p><p>The longer they travel together, the rarer it is to see the one far from the other. They sleep curled together, hunt together, warm by the fire together. They touch constantly, speak quietly, keep close. On Geralt's grumpiest days, it's the one thing that Jaskier clings to--if Geralt didn't want him around, Ria wouldn't want them either. And Ria is never endingly polite to Jaskier. She speaks with him, listens to him, requests he play his lute at night, just for them. She does everything short of crawling into his lap which would be--Jaskier doesn't let himself think about it. Only romantic partners touch each other's daemons, and sometimes not even then. It's an incredible display of trust, to give all that you are over to someone else. Even though Geralt obviously cares, he doesn't think he'd ever let him touch his daemon.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>Geralt isn't sure why Jaskier sticks around. He doesn't <i>mind</i> really, although he's sure to point out every way the bard inconveniences him at every opportunity. Not that it matters much when Ria gives him away at every turn with how much she clings to both Jaskier and his daemon.</p><p>"Why," he asks her during one of the rare times they're alone together at an inn, Jaskier downstairs playing while Geralt shuts himself up in their room, "are you so attached to him?"</p><p>She lifts her head from her paws and levels him with a very serious look, "why are you?"</p><p>He wants to deny her, but she knows him better than anyone else. Of course, she knows. "I don't know."</p><p>"He's good to us," she says diplomatically, "even when you're an asshole."</p><p>He gives a huff of breath, almost a laugh. "That's no reason to glue yourself to his daemon. I've never seen you so clingy."</p><p>"I love Marra," she says simply, and Geralt's breath catches.</p><p>"Ria--"</p><p>"You know, Geralt. Don't act like you don't." He doesn't like what that says about him, about Jaskier. "They love us," she tells him gently, "it's okay for you to love him too."</p><p>It's not, <i>it's not</i>, but Ria's selfish in the way he's never allowed himself to be. If he won't take it for himself, eventually she will, whether he wants her to or not.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------</p>
</div><p>Jaskier's been writing another song for the past week, soliciting opinions from his small audience when the occasion arises, despite Geralt's noncommittal grunts he so often gives instead of real feedback. It's a love ballad about destined lovers and it's...a little transparent if the looks Ria keeps shooting him are anything to go by.</p><p>"What?" he asks her after another run-through of what he's already got. They're seated around the fire, Geralt off in the brush somewhere checking snares.</p><p>"He's dense," she says without heat, "you should just tell him."</p><p>Jaskier can't help the way he flushes. Ria is remarkably good at reading him and it is <i>terrifying</i> sometimes. Marra wuffs her own amusement at his expense where she's curled at his feet. "Ria, darling, love of my life, there are so many reasons I cannot do that."</p><p>"You're both idiots," she mutters, exasperated, and then she's across the fire and tucking herself against his side, bumping her forehead against the heel of his hand. Jaskier freezes.</p><p>"<i>Ria</i>," he hisses, horrified. She merely huffs her annoyance and butts against his palm again. His fingers stroke through her fur on autopilot. It leaves a soft, pleasantly tingling feeling that radiates from the tips of his fingers up towards his elbow.</p><p>"Well if neither of you will do anything about it," she hums, content, nearly a purr, "mm, this is nice." Jaskier doesn't know much about what touching other daemons is like but his gut feeling tells him if someone were to touch Marra he'd <i>feel</i> it. So he’s not very surprised when Geralt nearly stumbles into camp only a few moments later, bereft of any game and eyes wide and searching.</p><p>"I didn't mean to, I swear," Jaskier babbles, attempting to snatch his hand back. "She just--" he cuts off with a tiny noise of distress as Ria merely follows into his lap, nudging his lute out of the way to settle comfortably across his knees. He doesn't want to upset Geralt, doesn't see a way out of this one.</p><p>"<i>Ria</i>" Geralt growls. The daemon doesn't move.</p><p>"Sorry, I think she just--"</p><p>"She knows what she's doing and she shouldn't be doing it. Ria, move," he snaps again. And when she appears only to settle a little more comfortably in Jaskier's lap, "you're making him uncomfortable." Geralt sounds half pleading.</p><p>"<i>You're</i> making him uncomfortable," she snaps back, leveling him with a look. She waits as if she expects him to say something and when he doesn't she heaves a put-upon sigh. "Jaskier," she says, overly patient, "I love you."</p><p>"Oh, I--!" he clears his throat, tries to ignore the way his chest has gone tight, "I love you too, sweetling." His fingers brush along her ears, unable to help himself. She purrs her satisfaction. Geralt's shoulders tense when Jaskier's fingers make contact with her fur, creeping higher towards his ears. Jaskier carefully breaks contact and watches Geralt's shoulders relax a fraction.</p><p>"Good. Marra, I love you," Ria continues. Jaskier can nearly feel the pleasure roll off his daemon.</p><p>"And I you," she answers, eyes soft.</p><p>"Geralt," Ria prompts, "is there something you'd like to say?" Jaskier feels like he can't breathe. He doesn't know how forcing Geralt into this position so suddenly is going to result in anything but being shoved away, but Ria started it and he trusts her if nothing else.</p><p>Geralt makes a frustrated noise. "I don't know why I have to say it when you all should already <i>know</i>," he growls, and Jaskier <i>freezes</i>.</p><p><i>Oh</i>.</p><p>"Because he doesn't know," Ria says, sounding smug, "so say it."</p><p>"Jaskier," Geralt grinds out, sounding like he'd rather be anywhere else, "you have to know I...care about you."</p><p>"Cop-out," Ria mutters, but she sounds fond.</p><p>Jaskier moves as if to stand and Ria steps placidly from his lap. He rises on shaky legs, crosses their camp to stand within arm's reach of the witcher. "Ria, remind me I owe you something nice next time we're in town. Your choice," he says, and then he closes the space between them to press a kiss to the corner of Geralt's mouth.</p><p>Its brief, just a brush of lips before Jaskier's pulling back again, eyes searching. Geralt doesn't say anything, just hauls him in closer, kisses him again.</p><p>Across the fire, the two daemons curl together, content.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The rest of the unused daemon companions, for those who were curious:</p><p>Jaskier's Mother - Cottontail rabbit<br/>Jaskier's Father - Black Sparrowhawk<br/>Yennefer - Maverick, Red-Tailed Hawk<br/>Triss - Polecat<br/>Vesemir - Jackal<br/>Lambert - Badger<br/>Eskel - Coyote<br/>Valdo - Magpie</p><p>Come yell at me on <a href="https://writinglizards.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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